We absolutely nailed the audition, even the lifts. My partner and I were called before the
choreographer. In a moment we had the payoff to hours of practice and pain. We had
a job!
The answers to questions came rapidly. A three month run at $400.00 a week, round trip
airfare, no passport just a birth certificate. You will be working on the top floor
of Fiesta Palace, a beautiful hotel resort. The nightclub has a 270degree view of
Mexico City from twentyfour stories above. You leave in three days. WOW!
We arrived in Mexico with our American group of eight consisting of a choreographer,
six tall blonde beauties and myself. I was feeling really good at this point. We were
taken through customs, asked more than once if we were Swedish athletes and introduced to
our Producer. He seemed a warm, friendly man. He looked at the women, grabbed his heart
and spoke in broken English, "Angels, I must be in Heaven!"
The Producer drove us to a government building where we had to fill out forms for work
visas.
"They're valid for six months and you must have one to work in Mexico," said
the clerk.
We were given copies of our visas by the Producer and instructed to keep them with us
at all times.
We adapted quickly to our new life. Rehearsals flew by, the show opened and was a hit.
The choreographer, satisfied with a job well done, flew back to the United States and I
finally had the time to enjoy Mexico.
The sites, the food, the customs and the people were wonderful. I made every effort to
meet the people and learn their ways, and looking like a Swedish athlete' made it
that much more fun.
The show was performed to sold out crowds and we were extended for an additional three
months. We were given the option of continuing on in Mexico or heading home to the U.S. We
were having a great time, not to mention putting some money away... the entire cast stayed
on.
I started to branch out in Mexico, dancing in some television specials and I even
managed a couple of weekend trips to Acapulco, (a twentyfive minute flight). Now I
was living!
On the fifth month of our stay we were notified that the show would be extended for yet
another three months. This time I was torn. Although I was happy, I was lonely for the
sight of a Burger King or a Shell gas station. My partner and I decided to give a
four-week notice, stating we would leave at the end of our six-month contract.